


Pure

by Lann_the_cleverest



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Chastity Device, Domination, F/F, Female Character In Command, Female Domination, Humiliation, Purity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lann_the_cleverest/pseuds/Lann_the_cleverest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her father's treason is discovered, Sansa's virtue is called into question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They bring her before the Queen two days after her father is beheaded.  She wonders if today will be the day when they drag her to the Sept of Baelor and take her head too.  But there are no guards in the room.  There are instead two septas, Varys the eunuch with his queer smile that never quite reached his eyes, Grand Maester Pycelle the kindly old man who treated her father’s ( _her traitor father’s_ ) leg when he was stabbed by the Lannisters, and of course the Queen, resplendent in a crown of yellow gold with red rubies and nuggets of Casterly Rock’s finest,  purest gold.  Her robes matched the crown, red billowing skirts and sleeves, with a golden bodice separating them, and they looked as soft as the summer snows that Sansa had played in as a child.  She looked as soft as the Mother, _(as Sansa’s mother)_ if you did not look to her face and see the hard, sharpness that lay there.  King Joffrey was nowhere to be seen, and Sansa thanked the Seven for that small mercy.

 

The Queen rose from her chair when Sansa curtsied to her, and there was a curl of her lip that the girl misliked.  “Good morning, little dove,” she purred, and her eyes were set on Sansa like the animal on her house sigil would fix upon prey…  Sansa fixed on her prettiest smile, the one her mother said could have made a King give up his crown just to see, and replied in kind.  “Good morning, your grace… and my lords… Sisters,” she said with increasing speed and she chewed her lip when she had finished greeting them all, worried she had done poorly.  She did not want to anger the Queen, not when it was her grace and mercy that kept her safe and, more importantly, alive.  “H…have I done something wrong, your grace?” she asked demurely, trying to mask her fear with courtesy. 

Cersei laughed, and so did Varys, a strange little titter that didn’t seem natural to Sansa’s ear.  “Only being born the daughter of a traitor, sweet lady,” Varys drawled, voice oozing like honey from a hive.  Cersei nodded.  “Yes, sweet Sansa, I’m afraid you have a duty that you must perform as Joffrey’s betrothed.  You are still to wed my son, at his insistence…” 

The Queen was cut short by Grand Maester, who stepped forward as though Cersei had not even spoken, and the Queen’s eyes glinted with anger as he spoke, “Though we have counselled him as to the wisdom of having a traitor for a bride…”  Pycelle interrupted, and Sansa paled.  “I’m not a traitor, I’m a good girl!  I’ve done all that you’ve asked of me, I’ve done… _everything_ you’ve asked,” she insisted, her eyes growing wet and her face paling with fear. 

Cersei raised her hand and Sansa halted instantly.  “As I said,” Cersei continued in her cold, clear tone, “You are still to wed your beloved Joffrey, but your father’s wickedness has brought your honour into question too, little dove.  You may not have flowered as yet, but in that barren Northern wasteland you hail from, that sort of thing may not have precluded you from losing your virtue,” she said bluntly. 

Sansa’s mouth dropped open – they couldn’t possibly think her that bad?  Her father was… a traitor, but that didn’t make her a dirty girl, no, she was good, and chaste and had never even kissed anyone but Joffrey.  She wanted to protest, but it was clear that Cersei had not finished.  Varys was smiling his unnerving smile behind her as Cersei announced.  “The Sisters are going to check you for your maiden’s seal.  And then…”  even the Queen looked uncomfortable and she waved to Varys to take over.  “And then, my dear… if you prove pure, you are going to be locked away, to ensure that you remain that way.”

Sansa looked almost relieved, for she knew she would be proved pure.  “I am to be moved to the Maiden’s Vault, your Grace?” she asked, and Cersei looked away. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written from Cersei's point of view

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously...  
> “The Sisters are going to check you for your Maiden’s seal. And then…” even the Queen looked uncomfortable and she waved to Varys to take over. “And then, my dear… if you prove pure, you are going to be locked away, to ensure that you remain that way.”  
> Sansa looked almost relieved, for she knew she would be proved pure. “I am to be moved to the Maidenvault, your Grace?” she asked, and Cersei looked away.

Varys tittered nervously. “Were it so simple, Lady Sansa. No. Surely you recall from your lessons, that women in the Maidenvault have had secret lovers before? Why, were it not for the… indiscretions of women in the Maidenvault, the Blackfyre Rebellion would never have occurred. No, things have changed since then. We have… new ways of ensuring maidens remain pure.” Sansa began to quake with fear.

Cersei had had enough. How dare they. This was her little dove, and they were trying to ruin her. The queen had taken her seat as Varys had begun to explain the tortures that were to be inflicted on the girl, not wanting a part of it. But she was still a lioness, and this pretty little dove was *her* prey – she would take charge of ensuring her enduring chastity. She all but jumped to her feet. “That is enough,” she snapped. “I will see to this matter myself. Lord Varys, Grand Maester, sisters, out!”

Varys bowed and swept out, the soft satin slippers he wore making no sound as he moved. The sisters moved more slowly, whispering behind their hands about how improper this all was, and Pycelle was standing gawping like a fool. Moonboy would make a more competent member of the small council than this one, she thought furiously. “Yy-your Grace,” Pycelle stammered. “You sent for myself and the sisters. You have not the skill for this task, nor the…ah…religious clout for it.”

Cersei’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I am the Queen Regent. I speak for the King. The King has the religious clout, and I have the skill,” she said calmly, though her voice was colder than the ice of the Wall, dangerous and deadly. “Now get out.”

The sisters left in a hurry then, and Cersei allowed herself a small smile. Power was good. It was power that had her alone in the room with the trembling little wolf girl who was her’s now. Her’s to mould, to make into a perfect bride for Joffrey, and a perfect queen to follow when Joffrey came of age – someone who could circumvent that awful prophesy by being her creature entirely…

When they were alone, she smiled at the girl, and Sansa quaked again… “Come here, little dove,” Cersei beckoned her with one well-manicured finger.

Sansa came to her side slowly, gracefully, a perfect lady despite her fear.  Cersei reached up and stroked her cheek.  Sansa relaxed slightly, the motherly touch something that she had missed greatly since her father had taken her south.  "Still no blood yet?" she asked, as casually as though she were asking if the girl had broken her fast well.  Sansa's eyes snapped wide and scared, and she looked utterly confused.  "Your Grace?" she asked, hesitantly. 

Cersei sighed impatiently.  "Your moon blood, Sansa.  You are yet to have it, am I correct?"  Sansa blushed as red as her hair and nodded.  "Yes, your Grace.  I mean, no your Grace.  Not yet."  The Queen Regent looked her up and down.  "Turn for me, little dove.  Slowly," she instructed.  Sansa did as she was instructed, and Cersei appraised her.  Her breast was beginning to swell, her hips taking a slight shape.  She was growing too big for her gown, though it had been new for her debut in court only a few months prior.  "You are becoming a woman, Sansa," she commented when the girl stopped turning and looked at her with expectant eyes, the shade of the water on a clear day at Casterly Rock.  Sansa blushed again.  "Yes, your Grace."

"But how much of a woman are you?" the Queen added, again, the words sounding like mere curiosity rather than enquiring if her future good-daughter was a harlot.  "Come here, to me Sansa, and take your small clothes down..."

**Author's Note:**

> This will take me a little while to finish, and will be written in parts. Hopefully it's good enough that it will be worth waiting for!


End file.
